


Little Words

by Ladysarah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ficlets, One Shot, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysarah/pseuds/Ladysarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of prompt fills and ficlets from my Tumblr.</p><p>1. Party in the CIA</p><p>2. Talking in Your Sleep</p><p>3. In the Ruins of the Day</p><p>4. Farmer's Market Aesthetic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Party in the CIA

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to Weird Al Yankovic does weird things to my muse and this is what happens when I give into said weird-ed out muse. Enjoy.

Her first month on the job goes well. She arrives on time and impresses her superiors with her flawless linguistic work. She becomes friends with Jane who works in the scientific analysis section on the same floor and, while Darcy usually has to pry the scientist away from her work, they eat lunch together several times a week. Not to mention the revolving door of killer operatives she gets to see on a daily basis. They are always good for a laugh and some great stories.

Life at Langley is a dream and after such a good month she had decides she deserves a reward. She starts the song on her computer and turns up the volume, taking advantage of her coworkers being elsewhere, before pouring over the stack of reports on her desk.

“ _So I get my handcuffs, my cyanide pills, my classified dossier. Tapping the phones like yeah. Shredding the files like yeah._ ” She bobs her head to the music, singing along, highlighting sections that needed attention. “ _I memorized all the enemy spies I gotta neutralize today. Yeah, it’s a party in the CIA._ ”

A loud knock on the open door cuts through the music and she quickly pauses the song, slightly embarrassed to be caught listening to that particular song while at work. Its lunch time and she hadn’t been expecting anyone to be around. The department usually emptied as soon as noon hit. Government workers at their finest.

She waves her hands in front of her like some sort of old age mystic. “You didn’t hear a thing.”

“What?” Perfection is standing in her doorway with sleeves rolled up over his muscly forearms and a very confused look on his face.

“Nothing.”

“Did I interrupt?” He points to her computer as he walks in and god, his voice is like silk.

“Nope. How can I help you?” She tries to cover the classified file she is reading as she stands and his eyes flick down and up her body quickly before settling on her face.

“You’re not Melinda.”

“Uh, no. I heard she got reassigned to another division. Something about a bus, I don’t know. Anyway, I’m Darcy. The new girl.” She extends her hand.

“Steve.” He shakes her hand firmly and Darcy has a hard time trying not to ogle him. The man is beautiful and looks rock hard underneath that white button down and tie he is sporting. Stay cool, Darcy. “I need to drop off my latest field report and Melinda usually went over anything Russian.”

Darcy smiles widely. “I’m handling the Russian reports now so you can drop that off with me.”

He looks down at the file on her desk, only half covered. “That file is in mandarin.” He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“I handle the Russian reports as well.” She crosses her arms across her chest in annoyance and juts her chin up. “They loved me at the Farm.”

Steve chuckles and hands her his file, giving her another once over, slower this time, that gives her chills. “I bet they did.”

She sits down, only partially because the look he is giving her is limiting her ability to stand, ready to return to her other reports, when she notices he is still standing in front of her desk.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for Langley.” He slowly makes his way to the door. “Most Farm graduates request field work when they can speak more than one language well enough to get a position in linguistics.”

It’s not the first time Darcy has heard it. Her instructors at the Farm tried tirelessly to convince her to go into the field. But in the end she chose desk duty. She likes languages more than people and knowing how to handle a gun proficiently wasn’t going to make her like them more.

“What can I say, we’ve got snazzy suits and ties,” she deadpans, lines from the song still running through her head. She can see a spark of laughter in his eyes.

“And a better dental plan than the FBI. See ya around, Darcy.” She catches a flash of a smile that has her rubbing her thighs together and then he is gone.

Oh, yes. Life at Langley was good. And she had a feeling it was only going to get better.

 

* * *

 I am [Nourgelitnius](http://nourgelitnius.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if anyone is interested. Don't be shy.


	2. Talking in Your Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Lady-Cheeky on Tumblr: Steve x Darcy, “Why is there a talking cat feeding the baby oranges?” AU  
> I corrected some things, like changing the entire tense of the story, because I am the writer and I can. So there. Also, it was just really bugging me. This is what happens when I write while tired.

The key makes a scraping sound as she turns it in the lock and she winces, hoping it goes unnoticed. The entryway to Steve’s apartment is bathed in the early afternoon sun, coating every surface in a bright white light, bringing out the colorful photos and artwork on the wall. She puts her purse on the sideboard, shucking her jacket off and hanging it up on it’s regular hook, and carries her two bags of groceries into the kitchen. 

She cleans and dries the vegetables and fruit before putting them in his gigantic fridge and pulling out the quart of spicy minestrone soup she picked up from the deli down the street. The man eats like a college freshman and she smiles at the though of having to sneak vegetables into his place while he is sick.

The soup in a pan and on the stove heating up, she makes her way to the living room. 

Good. Just where she left him. 

She had told him when he bought that ugly couch that, while it may look good and have a recliner that was just perfect for when he wanted to relax, he was going to hate sleeping on the thing. He won't be feeling very good when he wakes up, and his flu is only half of the problem. His head is propped up on a pillow while his feet rest on the armrest, his height too much for the couch. Of course, if he hadn’t been whining like a baby and just agreed to sleep in his bed…

He stirs slightly on the couch, eyes closed as he sleeps, and she moves forward to take the remote from his hand where it rests on his stomach. His brows twitches at the contact before he settles down again. 

Darcy enjoys moments like these. Not the getting a call in the middle of a less-than-stellar-but-still-had-potential blind date to come play Florence Nightingale to her best friend. Which, admittedly, she had done the night before. No. It's times like these when she is allowed to just watch him. To take in his angular features and soft lips.

They may have been friends for going on a dozen years, but she still isn’t used to his good looks. The fact that he had been a scrawny idiot when she first met him didn’t take away from his beauty in any measure. And the man that he had become only made her feelings for him worse. 

And here she was, the best friend who answered any time he called and ran to his side when he needed her because he was too busy playing the hero when a bridge collapsed to put on the insulated gear that was made specifically for freezing waters. Damn hard headed firemen.

She shakes herself out of the thought and turns to go check on the soup when his small muffled voice catches her attention.

"Why is a talking cat feeding the baby oranges?" She stops in her tracks and waits. He shifts in his sleep and his hand drops to the floor. She spies his prescription on the coffee table and picks it up and checks the label. 

"Strong stuff they have you on, Steve-O. Mama’s gonna get new material today." She gleefully pulls out her phone and turns on her recording app. Hey, she may be hopelessly in love with the guy, but that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun when he started talking in his sleep.

She lightly crept closer to the end of the couch where his head rests. “Steve,” she whispers softly in his ear.

"D'rcy," he hums her name as it passes from his lips. "The snowmen…" His voice trails off into what could be a chuckle or a light cough. It's a little hard to decide. He mumbles something else before the hand that had been resting on the floor glides up her stocking clad leg. The action takes her so by surprise that she stills completely. 

They touch. With a guy as touchy feel-y as Steve could get and their long history, it wasn't completely out of the realm of normal, but this…It was almost a caress. 

She needs to move, she tells herself. She loves him, so much, but those feelings were a one way street and she didn't need some drug induced haze giving her false hope.

"Alright. Down boy. No getting fresh when we can’t both enjoy it." She bends down and places a kiss on his temple before picking up the (thankfully) unsullied mixing bowl and the various tissues that litter the coffee table. 

"Mmm, Darcy…wanna touch you."

She finishes gathering the garbage and pats his head. “You already tried that, didn't work. Get some rest.”

She is almost out of the living room when his whispering voice causes her to stop in her tracks.

"Love you." 

It's no big deal, she tries to tell herself. They tell each other that all the time. He's even said it in his sleep before. So why did this time set her stomach fluttering? Why did this time cause her heart to clench so tightly in her chest?

"'M gonna marry you." He sinks further into his pillow. "Always you…" 

Her breath hitches in her throat before she forces herself out of the daze. She can't do this. She's trying to move on. From the kitchen she can hear the sound of the soup bubbling up and spitting onto the hot stove top.

"Shit." 

In such a hurry is she to get to the soup before it burns she doesn't notice the heavy lidded and watery blue eyes watching her flea the room.

Someday, he’ll have the courage to say it when she can believe him. 

Someday, he’ll tell her the truth.

 

* * *

 I am [Nourgelitnius](http://nourgelitnius.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Don't be shy.


	3. In The Ruins Of The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In her fantasies, he never kissed like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday present for LadyChi. Prompt : Caught Red Handed

In her fantasies, he never kissed like this. There were times his kisses were soft, lovingly passionate, tender. Then there were times when they were raw lust. All consuming, leaving the debris of their skin behind in its wake. This, the taste of his lips on hers, full of desperation and fear, this is something she hadn't expected.

It’s easy to get lost in him. To forget about what lead to this moment and just let the feeling of his lips and tongue and warm breath wash over her. The feel of his body, hard and firm against hers, trapping her against the cold steel walls, as if protecting her from the rest of the world.

He has one hand in her hair, cupping her head closer to his, refusing to let go, as his other hand slowly makes its way up her side to cup her jaw. His palm is sticky and wet and she pushes the thought from her mind. She won’t let it corrupt this moment.

A shiver runs down her spine when he nips at her bottom lip and she arches into him, arms around his back and closing what small space was between them in the first place. She can’t get him close enough.

There is a cough, almost drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, and she pulls away as if slapped. She can feel the moment Steve realizes they aren't alone, his form going stiff as his forehead comes to rest softly against hers.

Over his shoulder she can see a young agent with the medical kit, a layer of soot covering his clothing and a bandage covering a corner of his face. He doesn't look shocked. Or at least, not by what he's caught them doing. No, this kid is still in shock from the attack.

“Are either of you injured,” he asks in a tired and small voice, taking a look at the bodies that litter the floor.

Steve spins around to glare at the agent, putting himself directly between the two of them, and she remembers the stickiness of his hands. Lightly she reaches out and lets her fingers run over his, taking in the sight of blood covering them. It hasn't dried and she knows that it must have smeared on her face as well, trailing along her jaw and neck, covering the bruises that are an inevitability after the fight she went through.

He is facing her again, talking to her, but she can’t stop looking at his red hands. The way some of the blood has seeped under the edges of his nails and creates rivers in the creases of his skin. He lays a kiss at her temple, so chaste and warm it brings tears to her eyes. He did it to save her. He did it only for her.

A series of small sobs work their way through her body and he wraps his arms around her. “It’s okay.  _We’re_  okay.”

The blood isn't hers, and isn't his, and for now, that is all that matters.

 

* * *

 I am [Nourgelitnius](http://nourgelitnius.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if anyone is interested. Don't be shy.

 


	4. Farmer's Market Aesthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one shot was inspired by [this](http://nourgelitnius.tumblr.com/post/121209088705/tofixtheshadows-its-come-to-my-attention-that) post on tumblr talking about men who are Farmer's Market Hot. So of course this came from that. This is for Meri, horrible enabler that she is.

There are booths everywhere. Most of them had been set up the night before and are covered in a thin sheen of dew that sparkles in the just now rising sun.

 

One of them is bound to have coffee.

 

When Bruce had asked for help with his booth for the weekend, Darcy had been happy to help. Get some time away from her thesis paper, spend an hour sniffing all the fresh flowers from the flower section, maybe eat some hearty hipster food while someone played Joni Mitchell in the background. She hadn’t been expecting to rise before the crack of dawn to help set up.

 

She is halfway between the van and the _Bruce’s Blends_ booth, boxes stacked high in her hands, when she almost misses the curb and barely manages to keep her packages from covering the concrete and grass. Bruce turns around at the sound of her grumbling and takes pity on her and the cargo.

 

“One row over, third stall on the right. Tell her Bruce sent you and that he has more Salutation Blend in,” he says, putting the finishing touch on his displays. She barely manages to get out a thanks before she is off.

 

* * *

 

“God, what do they put in this? Why is this so good?” Darcy is close to moaning as she hands over a note from Betty, the coffee merchant who has obviously been sent from heaven. “I mean, is it this good because it’s the first cup I have had this morning or is it just that good?”

 

Bruce smiles, reading the note and starting to put together the order.

 

“She spent some time in Columbia learning different roasting techniques. She likes to play around with her beans.” He double checks the list, checking that he has everything. “I’m going to go deliver this.”

 

“And ask her to marry you? Please tell me you are going to marry this woman, Bruce. I need a woman with her skills in my life.”

 

“Could you just watch the stall and try not to pass out in ecstasy as you finish your coffee?” Darcy waves him off, awake enough to start to take in the booths that surround her.

 

To the left is an artisan bread maker, complete with several portable clay ovens that are being stoked to life by a golden giant of a man with a Man Bun of Perfection. One oven is already hard at work and the smell is having a Pavlovian effect on her. She catches sight of a sign behind him describing-with textbook quality pictures-the Science of Artisanal Breadmaking. She takes a picture of the sign, catching the golden giant and Man Bun of Perfection for the full effect, and sends it to Jane with a caption telling her that the sight alone makes this place better than the lab on a Saturday morning.

 

To the right is a simpler stall filled to the brim with cheeses of every variety. The signs that stick out of some of the larger wheels boast smoky flavors from different specialty woods and adventurous additives like dried fruits and honeys. On the furthest side of the booth a large display draws attention to Bullseye Aged Provolone, perfect for adding a little something to your pizza. No one is keeping watch over the stall but a golden retriever that looks bored out of his mind is blinking up at her from where he lays on the ground, head resting on his paws.

 

“I completely understand, buddy.” The dog’s ears twitch at the sound of her voice before looking away and sighing.

 

Finally her eyes settle on the booth across from Bruce’s. It’s larger than a lot of the others she has seen so far and a skillfully hand painted sign is displayed across the front advertising _Rogers Family Farm, Fresh! Local! Organic!_ The booth is littered with half filled displays of purple and orange and light yellow carrots, towers of zucchini and kale, and mounds of peppers in every color and Scoville unit.  

 

Down the row comes two bodies loaded down with so many crates of fresh produce she can’t see their faces. But she can clearly see the way their arms bulge under their rolled up shirt sleeves.

 

“-get it. I mean, it’s the same spot your mom worked out of, but it comes with shitty assigned parking.” The one talking sets down his crates, making sure they are steady while shuffling boxes and crates to make some room. “Can’t you strike up a deal with God of the Harvest over there or something? He gets his ovens in and then lets you park in his spot to unload?”

 

She doesn’t hear the response he is given because at that moment he is unloading his friends arms, revealing a face unlike she has ever seen before. Well, at least not printed on glossy paper. She wants to rubs parts of her body on that face.

 

She realizes she’s staring and when she looks away she catches the first guy’s gaze. His longish brown hair is pulled back and his hands are on his hips, grinning at her while his beautiful friend talks and unpacks. He opens his mouth and she can just imagine what kind of remark he’s got ready for the new girl checking out his friend when his eyes lower.

 

“Is she set up already” he asks, pointing to the cup in her hand.

 

“Uh...yeah?” His friend looks up at the sound of her voice, eyes catching hers, and _dear God_ is he gorgeous. No one should be allowed to look that good this early in the morning, not to mention decked out in flannel with dirt on their hands. And the beard. She looks away.

 

“I’m getting coffee. You want some, Steve?” Long haired guy is already leaving, eyes still on her like he knows her secret.

 

“Yeah. Stop by Nat’s, will you? I gave her the knives to sharpen and she said she would have them ready for us.” His-Steve’s-eyes are still on her as he gives orders to his retreating friend.  

 

They stare at each other for several moments before he crosses the row and stops in front of her.

 

“I’ll be the first to tell you Betty’s is the best coffee in the state, but it might make people doubt the quality of Bruce’s tea if they see you drinking that.” She smiles and he coughs lightly. “I’m, uh... I’m Steve.” He wipes off his hand on his jeans and hold it out towards her, small smile on his face.

 

“Darcy.” She shakes his hand. “And Bruce should have known better than to ask a coffee addict to help him sell tea.”

 

It draws a hearty laugh out of Steve and he smiles.

 

* * *

 

The sun is setting and things are quieting down. Bruce has let Darcy off of stall duty and she makes her way over to booth across from her, watching as Steve cuts open a ripe tomato and holds it out to a customer for tasting. They finish their transaction as Darcy looks over the berries and fruits.

 

“You want to taste anything?” He’s standing close to her and there is a spark in his eye, a smirk on his lips.

 

“Sure, but you gotta buy me dinner first.”

 

"Sounds like a deal."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am [nourgelitnius](http://nourgelitnius.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Come say hi.


End file.
